Hope and Glory
by Hannah-1888
Summary: A series of not-so-chance meetings give Severus and Hermione something to talk about. Sequel to Bricks and Mortar.


**Hope and Glory**

 _AN: All characters belong to J.K Rowling._

 _This story is a sequel to Bricks and Mortar and was originally beta-read by astopperindeath._

* * *

It was early evening when Hermione Granger strolled home from town carrying several bags of shopping. She could have Apparated with it, but lately she'd found a new love in walking. Perhaps it was because she could let her mind wander freely and the tension flow from her body during the exercise. Entering the house in which she lived with her parents, Hermione went through to the kitchen where her mother was cooking dinner.

'Here you go, Mum.'

'Thanks, love, put it on the table and I'll sort it out in a minute.'

Hermione placed the bags down and poured herself a glass of water. 'Will you be coming to St. Mungo's tomorrow?'

Mrs. Granger shook her head. 'No, I need to do a few hours at the surgery tomorrow, but he's been very good all day today.'

Hermione smiled at her mother's obvious pleasure, and she wished she could share in her optimism. The days when her father appeared to be fine were sometimes the worst for Hermione. She couldn't help but think that maybe this time, _this_ time, it'll be permanent. It never was, making it all the more poignant when he suddenly looked at her and couldn't remember who she was. How long would it be before the Healer's made some, or _any_ , progress?

'Oh, Hermione, there was an owl arrived for you earlier on. Hang on,' said her mother wiping her hands on her apron, 'here it is; from Hogwarts.'

Hermione raised her eyebrows, and her mother looked on with clear curiosity. Ripping the seal, Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment.

'Ah, it's from Professor McGonagall,' commented Hermione as she read the letter. 'It's Hagrid's birthday next weekend; they're having a celebration in The Three Broomsticks to mark the occasion, as well as his recent return to health.' Hermione smiled at the thought of the half-giant.

'Well, that will be lovely, won't it?'

Hermione blinked. 'I, well, I won't be going.'

'Why on earth not?'

'Because…' shrugged Hermione, stuffing the parchment back inside the envelope.

'Your father and I will be fine for one night! You hardly ever go out with your friends anymore, love.'

Hermione didn't say anything.

'Come and sit down; I've been meaning to speak with you about something.'

Hermione sat down at the kitchen table and looked at her mother with interest.

'I've been thinking a lot lately, about your father, and the prospect that he might not get better.' Hermione looked away, but her mother pressed on. 'It's a very real prospect, Hermione, and who knows, he may even get worse. With that in mind I've been thinking it's silly not to make the most of it, while we still can. Now, we can't go away during the week of course, we'd miss his sessions at the hospital, but the weekends will be a different matter. I think your father would like to go and visit some new places, see the country a bit more.'

'But Mum, you know how he gets sometimes, are you sure you could manage on your own?'

'Yes,' affirmed Mrs. Granger. 'It will be good for you too, dear, to have a bit of time to yourself, to go out with your friends, _and_ to go to Hagrid's party.'

'Don't worry about me; but I think it is a good idea for you two to go and enjoy yourselves. If there's anywhere I can Apparate you both to, you'll let me know?'

'Of course,' replied her mother, patting her hand.

Her mother left the kitchen and Hermione allowed herself a long sigh. Picking up the letter from Hogwarts, she ran her finger over the familiar wax seal. She would like to see Hagrid again, and she hadn't seen Professor McGonagall in a very long time. No doubt Harry and Ginny had been invited, and Ron too. And maybe Professor Snape would be there as well. Surely he would have been invited; it was because of him Hagrid had even reached his latest birthday.

She hadn't seen or heard from him since their last meeting at St. Mungo's. Hermione didn't mind admitting that she had enjoyed talking with him those times he had been there. Well, why else had she impulsively run after him to ask if they could stay in touch? Hermione still cringed whenever she remembered that. Did he think her desperate? She wasn't really sure what to make of it all. He hadn't seemed to be too put out by her, but then, he _had_ Disapparated without telling her how she could contact him. What was she supposed to do? Send a poor owl off with a letter, unaddressed, to find a man who could be anywhere in the country? Besides, it was probably for the best; she didn't know what she'd put in a letter that would be of interest to him anyway.

Still, she would go to The Three Broomsticks next weekend, and she would give it her best shot at enjoying herself.

* * *

'Good evening, Minerva.'

'Severus! Oh, you made me jump then,' replied Minerva McGonagall as she appeared out of the darkness.

'My apologies.'

Minerva paused at the door to The Three Broomsticks and surveyed him critically. 'You know, I wondered whether you would turn up tonight.'

Severus shrugged. 'I enjoy a good drink along with the rest of them, Minerva.'

'Yes, well,' muttered Minerva averting her eyes, and Severus fancied she looked a bit sheepish about something. With one brief glance up to the distant lights of Hogwarts castle, Severus followed the older woman inside the pub. He was unwinding the scarf from his neck when he glanced up to see a large table around which several people sat. There was Hagrid, hard to miss, of course, and there was… He froze.

'Bloody hell, Minerva; what have you done?' Severus looked at her aghast.

Minerva turned to him as she hung up her cloak. 'What?' She still looked sheepish.

'You failed to mention they would be here!' Severus flicked his eyes towards where Harry Potter, his wife, and Ronald Weasley were sitting around the table.

'Well, you definitely wouldn't have come if I had.'

'No, I wouldn't! And I can just as easily turn around and go back now!'

'You will not. You will sit down and have at least one drink. Then you can do what you like.' Minerva turned on her heel and walked towards the group in the corner. Severus, gritting his teeth in irritation, followed her.

'Here he is,' roared Hagrid. 'Saved my life 'e did!' Hagrid, still sporting a greenish tinge, lurched to his feet, nearly tipping the table over in the process.

Severus inwardly groaned. Hagrid was obviously three sheets to the wind already. For someone of his size, he had a remarkably low threshold when it came to alcohol consumption.

'Severus!' squeaked Filius Flitwick, 'it's been too long.'

'Indeed,' replied Severus, shaking the little man's hand. He greeted some of his former colleagues and managed a terse nod in the direction Harry Potter and his cohorts.

'Good evening, Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall.'

Severus turned to see Hermione Granger returning to her seat next to her friends. He was about to say something when Minerva barrelled past him to embrace her former student.

'Hermione, dear, there you are!'

Severus settled for a staid, 'Miss Granger,' before sitting down at the end of the table.

'Get this down yer, Sev'rus!' Hagrid's loud tones reverberated from the other side of Minerva. The half-giant plonked a large tankard down in front him, sloshing the contents everywhere, and then proceeded to slap him heartily on the back.

'Thanks,' managed Snape, surreptitiously checking his spine was still intact.

As it turned out, Severus did stay for more than one drink, but he should have known that inevitably there would come a point when he would sincerely wish he had left after that first pint. And that point arrived halfway through the evening, around the time Hagrid began regaling the table with Muggle sea-shanties, taught to him by his father. Hardly a person with an outgoing and gregarious nature, Severus found his attentions wandering.

He noticed Miss Granger to be still in rather low spirits while her companions were clearly enjoying themselves. He thought about talking to her, but over the din of Hagrid's and Filius's combined cacophony of noise, such a task would not be easy. As the last strains of the Hogwarts School song died away, Severus realised Hagrid was crying. Minerva was vainly trying to comfort him, by patting him on the arm.

'What's wrong?' Severus asked her in surprise.

Minerva merely looked at him with a helpless expression, while Hagrid continued snuffling into his beard.

'People 'ave always 'bin so good to me,' sobbed Hagrid haltingly. 'Me Dad, Dumbledore, great man 'e was…'

Severus felt his insides freeze, as they always did at any mention of Albus Dumbledore.

'… And now, Perfessor Snape, savin' me life! I'm sorry for the way I treated yeh, Sev'rus, when you were 'Eadmaster, I shoulda – '

Minerva hurriedly spoke over Hagrid, urging him to calm down, but it was too late. The frivolous atmosphere that had pervaded the air was now an uncomfortable tension with the only the sound of Hagrid's sniffles to break it. Severus gripped his tankard with all his might, inwardly cursing the half-giant for being a sentimental old fool. He didn't need to look around the table to know that everyone was studiously avoiding his gaze. The old adage was correct, people forgave, but they never forgot.

'I should probably get Hagrid back to Hogwarts,' said Minerva in a small voice, 'he's, ah, had a lot to drink. Horace, perhaps you could help me?'

Severus stood up to let Minerva pass as she led Hagrid away from the table.

'Sorry about this, Severus,' Minerva murmured vainly trying to keep Hagrid steady.

Snape nodded fractionally and once they'd left he turned to see that everyone was still awkwardly trying to pretend nothing had happened, and he sighed irritably. He couldn't be bothered with this. Draining the remains of his ale, he sharply set the tankard down on the table and headed for the door, collecting his scarf and cloak as he went. Stepping out into the cool night air felt wonderful after the stuffy atmosphere of the pub.

He moved out of the doorway and into the shadows to put on his cloak. He knew he should Apparate home straight away, lingering in Hogsmeade with such proximity to Hogwarts, and indeed, the Shrieking Shack, would not help his mood. But as Hagrid's faux pas had cemented his melancholia, he reasoned he might as well feed it. The door to the pub creaked open and Severus looked to see Hermione Granger appear, hugging her cloak tight around her and peering up and down the street. Hmm, maybe the end of his evening didn't have to be _quite_ so melancholic.

'You know, Miss Granger, I've been sat at my window every day these past two weeks, eagerly anticipating your owl.'

Hermione turned around, startled for a moment, before she narrowed her eyes. 'Oh, very likely,' she scoffed.

Severus stepped up to join her on the pavement. 'Don't believe me, then.' He moved away into the road, seemingly for no reason, but it afforded him a better view of the castle. Suddenly he wished it wasn't dark.

'Perhaps you approve of sending owls on wild goose chases? Seeing as you never gave me any indication as to where you live.'

Severus tore his eyes back to Hermione. 'Ah, yes — how forgetful of me.'

'I'm sure,' commented Hermione suspiciously.

'What are you doing out here?'

'Oh, um, I thought someone should come and see if you were…' she trailed off uncomfortably.

Severus gave a harsh laugh. 'If I were _all right_?'

'Sorry; Irealise how naive that sounds.'

'It doesn't matter.' Severus sat down on a nearby bench. 'How is your father?'

Hermione stuffed her hands within her cloak to warm them. 'The same,' she said with a tired smile. 'They've both gone away this weekend. My mother must be sick of my long face all the time; she told me to get out and enjoy myself for a change.' Hermione chuckled at the memory.

'It didn't look like you were enjoying yourself.'

'Obvious, was it? Harry and Ron they…Oh, I don't want to get into it now; I make _myself_ sick sometimes, droning on all the time. You know what? I _am_ going to enjoy myself, and _you_ canhelp me.'

'I beg your pardon?' replied Severus giving her a sidelong glance. What was the girl blathering on about now? He was going home to keep his old bottle of Ogden's company, she wasn't coming with him.

'Yes, I'm not finished with my night, yet; I'm off to the Hog's Head.'

'A pub-crawl, Miss Granger? I didn't know you had it in you.'

She ignored his sarcasm. 'Two pubs do not a pub-crawl make, Professor. Are you coming?'

Severus eyed her speculatively. 'I'm sure you'd be much better off with your friends.'

Hermione glanced back towards The Three Broomsticks. 'Oh, they won't want to come. Well, it's your choice, but I'm going to get drunk.'

She started walking off in the direction of The Hog's Head and Severus remained seated, caught in two minds. He didn't particularly want to play nursemaid to a dejectedly reckless Gryffindor, but, ugh, there was this feeling creeping about inside him that he was sure was masquerading as _responsibility_. That was what fifteen years of teaching did to a person, he supposed, instilled a maddening sense of responsibility. He could simply go inside and warn Potter…but…

Severus sighed long-sufferingly. 'Miss Granger, hang on.'

* * *

'It's just dawned on me that I should probably have told Harry or Ron where I was going.' Hermione let out a carefree giggle. 'Oh well.'

'Do you mean to say I should expect an early wake-up call from the Aurors tomorrow, to interrogate me as to where I've abducted you to?'

Hermione smiled and sipped her wine, feeling pleasantly light-headed. 'Oh no, Harry won't turn up on _your_ doorstep with accusations; he's a big fan of yours now, you know.' She laughed again when the expression of her companion turned from blank to horrified in a split second.

'I beg your pardon!' spluttered Snape.

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. 'Oh yes! He won't have a bad word said against you, not anymore.' Her smile became distant. 'Funny how things change, really.'

'Frightening, is more apt,' came the dark reply.

'Don't worry; he's not going to start a fan club or anything. And Ron still doesn't like you, if that helps.' As soon as the words were out of her mouth Hermione felt herself blushing furiously. Perhaps she should ease up on the drink, she thought, her tongue was becoming dangerously loose. 'Um, I shouldn't have, um …'

Snape snorted. 'Please, you don't think I could have worked that out for myself? It's as plain as the freckles on his face.' There was no trace of bitterness in his tone.

'They _are_ very plain,' nodded Hermione sagely.

'He's an idiot,' muttered Snape into his glass.

'No no, he's _not_ an idiot! Why do people _always_ say that about him? He's just … I'll have you know I nearly married him, I did.' Hermione jabbed her finger onto the table to emphasise her point.

'You nearly did _what_?'

'Don't look so aghast, Prof, Professor Snape, I wanted to marry him.'

'By all that is sacred, _why_?'

Hermione shrugged dismissively. 'Because… Why does anyone want to get married?' She glanced over at him sardonically. 'Anyway, quite clearly we did _not_ get married, in the end. He broke it off when it became apparent my father wasn't going to get better any time soon. I'd already moved back into my parents' house so…'

Snape, she noticed, had trained his gaze on his glass of whisky, which he twisted about in his hand. He seemed disinterested, but she had an idea that he was listening. Either that or she was talking to herself - not an unusual occurrence in the Hog's Head, at any rate.

'I couldn't expect him to put his life on hold, could I? Besides, I had more important things on my mind; I don't think I was even bothered… in the end.' She drained the remains of her glass and set it down heavily. 'Ugh, we're supposed to steering clear of maudlin topics, tonight. How about another one?'

'Miss Granger, I think you've– '

'Excellent!' she interrupted breezily, and stepped very cautiously over to the bar. She wanted to retain _some_ of dignity, at the very least.

Some time later, when they emerged from the pub, Hermione felt wonderful. The cold breeze soothed her flushed cheeks and well, everything was so funny and fabulous. Now, if only she could remember how to walk in a straight line.

'Prof,' she hiccoughed, 'Professor, where are you? I'm going to fall on the floor if I move.'

'I'm here, Miss Granger.'

'Oh, yes,' she replied as she turned to see him several paces behind her, shrugging on his cloak. She chuckled loudly at the amount of time it was taking for him to clasp it together.

'What are you cackling about now?' He crossed over to her, and grabbing her arm they moved unsteadily into the street.

'Nothing, just glad to see I'm not the only one tipsy.' Hermione kept her gaze on her feet, making sure they were staying one in front of the other.

'I may be tipsy but there are far better adjectives to describe your condition.'

'I don't think so… Oh I can hear music! Can you hear it?' Hermione wrenched her head in the direction of The Three Broomsticks, from where the sound was emanating. 'Come, let's dance, sir!' She grabbed his arm.

'I think not! It'll take more than a few drinks for that, Miss Granger!'

'Oh but…' she tugged harder on his arm.

'I said . . . .' Suddenly his expression changed and he was smirking. 'All right; you want to dance, do you?'

'Um,' began Hermione, now unsure. His arm flew out, clasped her waist, and then she was being spun round; immediately Hermione felt sick. 'All right, all right, stop!'

He let go and Hermione clutched one hand to her spinning head and the other to her stomach. 'I see your point; but did you have to throw me around like that though?' she groaned.

Snape continued to smirk and he sat heavily onto a bench. 'It was the only way I could think of to shut you up. I need some quiet to gather my wits about me. You do realise one us needs to Apparate us out of here? Clearly you are in no fit state. Unless, of course, you fancy running up to Hogwarts and asking Minerva for a bed for the night?'

Hermione threw herself down beside him and closed her eyes. 'Oh, I'd forgotten about that, sir.'

'And stop calling me "sir" would you? I feel like I'm going to be arrested at any moment for getting one of my students inebriated.'

Hermione opened her eyes and looked at him. 'Sorry, you never invited me to… And, well, you are always so formal.'

'I am not a teacher anymore.' He sighed. 'I should have brought some sober-up with me.'

Hermione let her head rest on the back of the wooden bench. She wasn't concerned; she knew he wouldn't splinch them both - the cold air was beginning to have a sobering effect even on her.

Snape stood up and held out his hand. 'Come on, Miss Granger; it's now or never.'

'Maybe _you_ should stop calling me "Miss Granger" all the time,' Hermione accused as she precariously got to her feet.

'Is this permission for me to address you as "bothersome girl" or some other such moniker?'

'It's not,' Hermione glowered. 'And just for that I won't promise not to be sick once you've Apparated us.'

'On your own head be it. Now, quiet, I need to concentrate.'

Closing her eyes, she began preparing herself for the motion sickness that would follow. It seemed an age had passed before they appeared with a loud crack in a darkened room.

Hermione gasped. 'My arm is gone!' She wasn't sure what made her do it; well, it was the drink, probably.

Immediately the lights in the room flared to life and a startled 'What?' reverberated off the walls. Hermione bent double with laughter.

'Your face!' she spluttered. 'Oh, Merlin!

Snape frowned at her deeply. 'That was in very poor taste, indeed!'

Hermione clutched her aching stomach till her laughter died down. She wiped her eyes and sighed pleasantly, she couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so completely. She was almost afraid to look at Snape, in case he was angry, but when she did it was to catch him biting his lip. Hermione smiled, perhaps that would be one of her goals in life, to get Severus Snape to genuinely laugh out loud. Noticing she was standing next to a settee, she leant on it slightly and blinked several times, as if to clear her head.

'Where are we?'

'My house, where do you think? I will fetch some sober-up potion for you to take and then you can Apparate home.'

He disappeared and Hermione slid fully onto the cushions of the settee. It was surprisingly comfortable, and suddenly she did feel awfully tired …

* * *

The next morning Hermione opened her eyes and immediately closed them again. Surely she was dying? She brought her hand up to her mouth and grimaced. She was going to be sick. Breathing deeply, Hermione concentrated with all her might on getting her roiling stomach under control. A thought suddenly struck her and her sickness was, for the moment, forgotten. Where the hell was she? What had happened last night? She sorted through her fuzzy memories, one by one.

Oh, Merlin. Please, Merlin, no.

Hermione cracked her eyes open and found herself staring at the back of a settee. How she wished the cushions would swallow her whole and never _ever_ spit her back out. How could she have let herself get into such a state, and what must _he_ think of her? Hermione mentally groaned; well she couldn't play dead on here forever. She moved to sit up and whimpered, one hand reaching up to clutch her head. She closed her eyes; to keep them open was painful.

'Good morning, Miss Granger.'

Hermione cringed. 'Um…' was all she could manage.

Snape set a small phial down onto the table in front of her. 'I'd drink that directly, if I were you.'

Her stomach flipped at the thought of consuming _anything_ , but she reached over blindly and downed the contents gratefully. She sighed and already she could feel her sickness settling.

'Thank you, sir, um -'

She was interrupted by a long sigh. 'Call me Severus, Miss Granger; it is my name, after all.'

'Oh, of course, then Hermione, please, um…' she felt herself blushing, 'listen, I, uh, should apologise for last night, I don't normally get so, well -'

'Intoxicated?'

'Yes, quite,' agreed Hermione tightly, 'and, I hope I wasn't too much of a nuisance, either.'

'Well, it isn't a crime to let one's hair down, as they say.'

She was reminded of what her own hair might look like, not to mention her face; the phrases 'bird's nest' and 'panda eyes' sprang to mind.

'Thank you; I'd better be going now.'

Snape stood up. 'You are well enough to Apparate?'

Hermione also stood up, albeit much more slowly. When the room didn't spin around her, she nodded. 'I'm fine, Prof, ah, Severus.' Saying his name only added to her seemingly permanent blush. 'Goodbye.' She turned on the spot and appeared in her living room. Collapsing in an armchair, Hermione put her head in her hands. Well, that was that, she'd never be able to face him again.

* * *

It turned out that only a month elapsed before he was stepping over the threshold of St. Mungo's hospital again. This time Severus knew it was not to be the onerous task he'd shouldered last time he had been in the building. Indeed, he was aiming to be in and out very quickly. However, on finding that Healer Glossop was detained in an emergency, such imaginings were effectively binned. He was debating whether to rearrange the meeting when he was informed Glossop would meet him in the tearoom shortly. Severus sighed. Just how long was _shortly_?

Nevertheless he travelled up to the fifth floor and picked up a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ before entering the tearoom. He scanned the room until his eyes alighted on a familiar sight. Collecting a cup of coffee, he headed in the direction the recognisable bushy hair.

'Well, well, Miss Granger, fancy seeing you here.'

Hermione looked up in surprise. 'Pro – Severus! Yes, fancy indeed, am I not a fixture here?'

'It would appear so,' remarked Severus as he sat down. He noticed she seemed determined to avoid his gaze and he smirked inwardly. It was just too easy. 'I trust there's only tea in that cup, Miss Granger?'

'Hmm?' began Hermione, confused, before comprehension dawned and she flushed. 'Ha ha, it was _one_ time; I am not an alcoholic.'

'I'm glad to hear it; I was concerned you might become a bad influence on me.' Perhaps he shouldn't tease her so, but he couldn't resist. He found it oddly charming that she was so embarrassed. Though why it should matter to her what he thought of her, he couldn't understand.

Hermione smiled rather reluctantly. 'I still can't believe I got into such a state…'

'It's not your fault you are such a lightweight.' Hermione raised her eyebrows accusingly. 'Indeed, it could have been worse. I _would_ have left you behind had you turned out to be another Hagrid when inebriated.'

'I'd better be thankful for that then. Poor Hagrid, he's always been a liability when he's had a few.'

'Indeed,' muttered Snape darkly.

Hermione sipped her tea. 'So, we know why I'm here, but why are you? If you don't mind me asking, that is.'

'I'm not ill. I'm merely here to discuss a matter with Healer Glossop. I occasionally edit articles for _The Practical Potioneer,_ and they want me to write one on the Dragon Pox potion. Well, it wasn't all me, so it will be a collaborative effort.'

'I didn't know you worked for _The Practical Potioneer_?'

'Should you?'

'Well, you never mentioned it when I asked what you did.'

'A man's allowed a bit of intrigue, isn't he?'

'Only "a bit"? Some might say you had it in spades, Professor.' Hermione quirked an eyebrow, 'I expect you would say that I am transparent?'

Severus studied her. 'Perhaps…Gryffindors' generally are.'

Hermione laughed and shook her head in resignation. Severus cleared his throat and made a show of reaching inside his robes for his potion. Something about their exchange had struck an odd chord within him, and he had no urge to examine it. He set the phial down on the table.

'You'll get addicted to that stuff,' ventured Hermione in a warning tone.

'No? I had no idea!'

Hermione frowned at his sarcasm.

'Why do you think I pour it into my drink?' He demonstrated by tipping a measure into his coffee. As if he wouldn't be aware of the pitfalls of taking certain potions!

'Probably doesn't dilute it that much…'

Severus glared at her. 'I was unaware you were an expert in the field.'

Hermione shrugged and turned her attention to her tea. For several moments there was silence between them, until Hermione began speaking again.

'My, ah, drunken escapade wasn't a complete folly, you know.'

'Oh?'

'Yes, well it made me think. If my mother, and indeed my father, can make the best of things then so can I. She says they'll find someone else to help out in the surgery, so I'm officially looking for a new job. Nothing major, of course, I still have to be available to bring my parents here every morning. I've had a look around Diagon Alley and enquired in a few places, Slug and Jiggers, Flourish and Blott's, and the like.'

'Indeed,' commented Severus thoughtfully, 'no doubt a change of scene is probably wise.'

'Precisely, it'll be good to apply my mind to other things.'

'I wish you luck, then.'

Hermione smiled pleasantly and her face brightened in a way that Severus felt did not happen very often anymore. He wondered if perhaps he should go and see… No, such an action might appear rather suggestive, but then, he could do it on the sly. They were very discreet, after all, and would not want to alienate him. Decision made, Severus glanced up at the doors wishing Glossop would hurry up. He had something he needed to attend to in Diagon Alley before he went home.

Two days later Severus received an owl.

 _Dear Severus,_

 _Slug and Jigger's has offered me a job! Can you believe it?_

Indeed, Severus could.

They were very understanding of my situation, and well, they didn't even want a reference! Very generous of them, wouldn't you say? Perhaps I shall see you in the not too distant future; apparently you are one of their most 'valued and respected' patrons.

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Hermione Granger_

Severus crumpled up the parchment with a suspicious frown and cursed himself. Perhaps he was just as transparent as the rest of them.

* * *

Hermione levitated the rather heavy box out of her arms and knocked briskly on the door in front of her, rocking on her heels in anticipation. Eventually the door opened and she smiled brightly.

'Hi.'

'Miss Granger, what are doing here? Jigger usually brings my order himself.'

'It's Hermione, and I hope you don't mind but I wanted to bring it myself.'

Snape looked at her blankly. 'Why?'

'Because I have something to tell you, that's why.'

He moved aside to let her in. 'What is it that you want to tell me, then?'

Hermione didn't need to be asked twice and she enthusiastically clapped her hands together. 'It's my father; the Healer's have actually managed to remove part of my spell from his memory! It's been a week since and you can really tell the difference; his periods of memory loss are far more infrequent. And, do you know what? When they removed it, some of his memories were taken with it, but thankfully, they don't seem to be anything important! They say they might even be able to return them if they can destroy the remains of the spell! I know I'm talking a mile a minute but I can't help it!' Hermione breathed deeply. 'Where do you want your ingredients?'

'Over there,' said Snape, indicating the kitchen table, while processing the volley of facts thrown at him. 'I am glad to hear you have had some good news, indeed.' He moved over to the box and began pulling out the various items he'd requested, giving them the once over. Hermione, far from being affronted by this, was more deflated by his lack of enthusiasm towards her news. Although, why _should_ he get excited by it? Did anything excite him, for that matter? Still, the wind was taken out of her sails a bit. Ron, and the others, had been over the moon for her.

'You seem, ah, unconvinced,' stated Hermione carefully.

He looked up from where he was examining some snake fangs. 'On the contrary, what is there to be unconvinced about?'

'Well, you tell me.'

'Does it really matter how I express my sentiments, Miss Granger? What should my cautionary nature matter to you?'

Hermione frowned behind his back. What _did_ it matter what he thought? She didn't have an answer to that and she changed tack. 'It's Hermione; Merlin, you were the one who was complaining about student-teacher reminders!'

'Yes, but technically you are still Miss Granger; I am not _Professor_ Snape, and, you did say that I am fond of formality, after all.'

'Are you winding me up on purpose?'

'That would imply I took pleasure in such diversion, and that wouldn't be very generous of you, would it, _Hermione_?'

Hermione harrumphed loudly and stepped over to the table. 'Is everything to your satisfaction?'

'Quite.'

'Then I will be off.' She picked up the box and was halfway across the room when his voice stopped her.

'You don't want payment? Now that _is_ generous of you.'

Hermione gritted her teeth, how could she have forgotten that? She pulled out a receipt from her robes and unfolded it. Turning, she held it out to him sweetly. 'Payment would lovely, thank you.'

He was smirking infuriatingly as he counted out the Galleons.

'Smirk at me like that …' she muttered darkly, and was annoyed to feel a smile threatening to break out. She pocketed the money and headed once more to the door, which he dutifully held open for her to leave.

'Thank you for your custom, _Mister_ Snape.' She could do formal too.

'Pleasure,' he said serenely, before shutting the door.

Hermione sighed. Either she'd caught him in a funny mood or she'd forgotten how aggravating the man could be. She suspected it was the latter.

* * *

Severus put his quill down and looked at his watch. Where the hell was she? He specified to have his deliveries made in the mornings and it was now approaching three o'clock. In all the weeks she'd been bringing him his ingredients, this was the first time she'd given him reason to complain. He'd have some words for her when she did arrive.

An hour later there was a knock on the door. Severus flung it open with a scowl but was surprised when she just shoved her way past and dumped the box on the table. He shut the door sharply.

'Determined not to stand on _any_ ceremony today, are we, Miss Granger?'

Hermione ignored him and began unpacking the box. Severus joined her, slightly concerned at her behaviour.

She scrubbed a hand over face tiredly. 'I'm sorry I'm late, I just couldn't face…I have had a bloody piss-poor day! I got on the wrong side on a barrel of horned slugs earlier.' She set down a jar of beetle eyes with a loud thump. 'And if you're wondering what that smell is, it's me! I'm beginning to smell like that place, cabbage and bloody rotten eggs…'

Snape grabbed her arm and pulled it away from the box when she nearly upset a container of rat spleens. 'Careful!'

Hermione closed her eyes and sat in a nearby chair. 'Sorry.'

Looking at her, it was obvious that she was tired and anxious. Severus began unloading the box himself. 'What is wrong, Hermione?'

'You were right,' she said in a quiet voice.

'Excuse me?'

'You didn't want to get my hopes up about my father, did you?'

Severus paused for a moment, but did not say anything. He had a feeling he knew what was coming next. He would never tell her, but of course he had done research on the matter of her father. He had discovered little of note; what he had found had only reinforced his opinion that the mind was far too fragile to be trifled with.

'They'll never be able to remove the rest of the spell. They located part of it, but it's so infused with other memories that they will not risk it. Indeed, _we_ do not want to risk it, either.' She took a shuddering breath and tugged at her hair. 'That's it; it could be worse, of course, and he has improved, but still, I always imagined that some day he would get back to normal.'

'He is alive, and that is the main thing. You will come to accept his ailment in time, and live with it accordingly, till that in itself constitutes normal.' He watched her absorb his words but the expression on her face was sorrowful. Severus found himself wishing he could offer words of comfort that were not so brusque and forthright, as was his wont. Was he of any use to her? Sometimes he wondered.

Hermione was nodding in slow agreement. 'You are right, of course.' She shrugged. 'Time to accept it, and move on, I guess.'

'You don't still blame yourself?'

'No, well, I don't know… Perhaps there could have been another way, but I had to do _something_.'

Severus nodded, feeling it was too rich of him to patronise her further over her regrets when he dwelled often enough over his own. 'Would you like some tea, or do you need to get back to the Apothecary?'

'Thank you, no this is my last task for the day.'

Severus set down a steaming mug in front of her and sat down. He was halfway through pouring his potion into his tea when he realised he probably shouldn't have done it front of her. Not if he wanted an easy life, anyway.

'I wish you wouldn't use that stuff all the time.'

He bit the inside of his mouth to keep himself from sounding off.

'Your voice doesn't even sound that bad.'

He dug his nails into his palm, trying to be mindful of her gloomy frame of mind, but he was not sure how much longer he could hold out.

'How long have you even been taking it? Don't tell me ever since it happened!'

'No,' he ground out evenly. 'Do you think I would take a pain reliever for five years running? I probably wouldn't be sitting here talking to you right now.'

'I'm just saying…'

'Well don't. You'd prefer I brave the pain? I'd like to play the martyr for you, I'm sure, but -'

'That's not what I meant. You can't keep taking it forever.'

'It is not your concern.' He fixed her with a stare, before muttering into his mug about 'Interfering busybodies.'

Hermione sighed. 'Fine. Are you coming to Grimmauld Place for the Order reunion? Two weeks from now.'

Severus nearly choked. 'Are you insane, woman? Why on earth would I want to do such a thing?'

'Oh, come on, you can't leave me to mercy of slobbering couples and babies!'

'Well, there's an incentive if ever I heard one!'

'Loads of people will be there, Professor McGonagall - '

'I don't care if the Queen is going to be there, I am not going.' He got up suddenly and placed his mug angrily into the sink.

'All right, keep your hair on,' Hermione muttered as she gathered her things together.

Severus stared out of the window at the falling rain and wondered, grimly, how it had come to the point where she could speak to him like that and get away with it.

'Here's your receipt.'

Severus dumped the money onto the table and went to sit in the living room. As soon as she was gone he would pour himself a hefty measure of Scotch. He was vaguely aware of her moving to leave, and part of him was reluctant to let her go on such a low note, but he didn't know what to say. He was grateful when she spoke, proving that she at least was not limited by such shortcomings.

'I'm sorry, I should realise…I _do_ understand why you don't want to be there.'

'It's all right.' He nodded towards her and she left without another word. Yes, it would be a hefty measure, indeed.

* * *

Two weeks later, Hermione travelled by Floo powder to Grimmauld Place and was greeted enthusiastically as soon as she emerged from the fireplace.

'Hermione! You came!'

'I haven't seen you in ages, Hermione!'

'Hermione, look at James, doesn't he look adorable!'

'Hermione, come and meet my new girlfriend!'

Hermione smiled dazedly. It was time to get back into the swing of things.

* * *

'What the devil are you doing at my door at this time of night, Minerva?'

'May I come in?'

'Suit yourself.' Severus turned away and slumped back into his armchair, closing the book he'd unsuccessfully been trying to read. Minerva raised her eyebrows and closed the door.

'I thought I'd drop by en route back to Hogwarts.'

'Why, pray tell? Do you want anything to drink?'

'No, thank you, I've had enough tonight. Well, I knew you wouldn't come to Grimmauld Place and I thought I'd come by and see how you are. I left early; I can't keep up with these young ones anymore.'

'Oh.'

'Oh? Severus? You're not normally one for monosyllables.'

'I fall short so often, Minerva…' he commented wryly.

The older woman merely looked at him with a strong hint of a frown. 'You should have come, Severus. It was a pleasure to see everyone again. I had a lovely chat with Miss Granger, and it is good to see her looking so much happier than she did at Hagrid's birthday. She's turned into a wonderful young woman. Mr Weasley was a fool not to snap her up when he had the chance.'

Severus stared hard into the fire.

'I had no idea you were so friendly with her, Severus.'

'We're not _friendly,_ ' he dismissed flatly.

'Oh really? You might want to tell her that. She speaks very highly of you.'

'Is this the real reason for your visit, Minerva, to fish for information about relations between Miss Granger and myself? And here I was thinking you had better things to do with your time.' He gave her a fleeting, impatient glance.

'I was merely surprised to hear it.'

'What, that I hadn't yet managed to alienate her?'

Minerva huffed. 'What is the matter with you? You're strangely defensive and, dare I say it, a bit self-pitying tonight.'

' _I_ saw her a few times at St. Mungo's when I was helping Hagrid, and she was there for her father. She delivers my ingredients from the Apothecary. The end.'

'I was only making an observation, Severus.'

'Well, I would like to be left alone, Minerva, if you don't mind.'

Minerva said nothing for several moments. 'Hmm…' she murmured eventually. 'Very well, as you wish. Goodnight to you, then.'

'Goodnight.'

Severus ran his hand through his dark hair and looked at the door through which Minerva had recently left. The sinking feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach for most of the day bubbled to the surface. He had an idea why he had been feeling so disgustingly irritated and off-kilter all day. There was only one reason why he should be left feeling so deflated at the thought of Miss Granger out enjoying herself while he moped about on his own. It was jealousy. It had to be; it wasn't as if he didn't have enough experience with the emotion to not recognise it.

It felt different this time; it wasn't an intense feeling that left him angry and hateful, but more a disheartening weight on his shoulders. It made him wonder just what it was he was jealous about. Perhaps it was because he was increasingly aware of there differences between them. This one incident highlighted all she was, and all he'd never be. He would never be that carefree, happy person out to enjoy himself; he was unfriendly, alone and weary. He was also ridiculous and unreasonable, after all, she had wanted him to go with her, so therefore, what grounds did he have to complain? But had he, unconsciously, hoped she might try and persuade him, or worse, come to see him instead? Clearly he had plumbed new depths of maudlin sentiment. He needed to get a grip; he was utterly pathetic.

* * *

Hermione smoothed her unruly hair down and checked the small amount of make up she had somewhat inexpertly applied. She had her favourite maroon robes on and studying her reflection, she was happy to note that she looked halfway decent. It was a relief to see she didn't look so tired and stressed as had become usual, and indeed, she felt a lot better for it.

She glanced at the clock. She had an hour; she was dressed and she had the food spelled to start cooking at the right time. As Hermione was leaving her bedroom, her eye caught sight of a book. Picking it up, she rubbed her fingers over the cover and smiled wistfully. She hadn't seen Severus in several weeks, not since before the party at Grimmauld Place. Jigger increasingly had her working on the paperwork, rather than let her run about delivering ingredients to customers. She was sorry for it; she missed talking with him.

Would it seem impulsive of her to Apparate to his house and return his book – now? Perhaps, but so what, she had plenty of time. Without deliberating on it any further, she Disapparated.

'Miss Granger, good evening.'

'Hello, Severus,' smiled Hermione. 'How have you been?'

'Fine, thank you.' He moved aside to let her in.

Hermione stood in the dimly lit living room. It was small, and perhaps not to everyone's tastes, but it had a certain charm; although maybe that was because of the multitude of books present.

'To what do I owe this pleasure?'

He had his back to her, fumbling about with some papers on his desk, and Hermione narrowed her eyes. It looked like he had a bee in his bonnet about something.

'I've brought your book back, and I, well, I've just been wondering how you are.'

'Really?' was the drawled reply. He turned around and Hermione noticed his eyes flicked up and down as if surprised. She immediately felt self-conscious.

'You look… Going somewhere, are you?'

'No, um, Ron is coming over for dinner. I think he wants to patch things up.' Hermione inwardly cursed. Why had she felt the need to add that last bit? She knew he would not be impressed, and indeed, she was not to be disappointed.

'Patch things up?' he spat. 'Are you out of your mind?'

Hermione was momentarily stunned at his potent reaction, and as such, her rejoinder was rather lacklustre. 'That's not very nice.'

'Well, I'm not a very nice man.' He looked into the fire. 'He's an idiot, Hermione! The way he just cast you aside -'

'Oh don't do this now!' interrupted Hermione fiercely. 'I don't know what your problem with Ron is. It's not as if I'm asking _you_ to have dinner with him! It's my decision, all right?' She was breathing heavily, slightly surprised at herself for raising her voice in such a way. Snape himself looked taken aback.

'Fine,' he said flatly and turned his attentions back to his desk.

Hermione dropped her gaze to the book she held in her hands and numbly placed it on the coffee table. Without another word she let herself out and Apparated. Back in her home, she sat down heavily and sighed. What the hell had that been about? She knew he didn't like Ron, but Merlin, what had Ron ever done to him? Getting up to check on the food, Hermione poured herself a glass of wine feeling rather miserable and wishing she had never thought to go there tonight. Impulsiveness obviously didn't agree with her today.

Walking into the passage, she was about to head upstairs when she noticed a folded up piece of paper on the doormat. Immediately she leaned down to retrieve it. Opening it revealed some very familiar handwriting, but as she read the short missive, Hermione felt anger rising within her. The bloody git, the _bloody_ git! Oh, he would have it the next time she saw him.

Moving back into the living room, Hermione savagely tore up the paper and slammed it hard down on the table. Why was she even surprised by such a turn of events? It was the type of insensitive thing he would do. Merlin, how she wanted to give him an earful! What a total waste of time this evening had turned out to be!

She glugged violently on her wine and threw herself onto the sofa, shutting her eyes with her sigh. She felt unutterably foolish. Thinking she would have to give the night up for a lost cause and retire to bed with her wine and a book, Hermione found her eyes turning to her fireplace.

There was, perhaps, something she should do first. The prospect of falling out with him for too long didn't sit well with her. She rather thought he was the type to carefully nurse a perceived slight. Taking a deep breath, Hermione crossed to the fireplace and threw in a handful of Floo powder.

'Severus?' she called tentatively, leaning into the green flames.

'What now?' he sighed.

She couldn't bring herself to say out loud that he had been right. He would smirk and preen like a bloody peacock, no doubt. Instead, with some surprise, she found herself saying:

'Do you, um, want to come over?'

He looked at her with disbelief. 'Were you not present at our earlier exchange? What on earth would possess you to think I'd want to play gooseberry to you and Weasley?'

Hermione scowled. 'Well Ron _isn't_ going to be here, so if you haven't eaten I've got a dinner here going to waste.' She broke the Floo connection and stood back to wait, reasonably sure she'd piqued his interest. Sure enough, a few moments later the fire glowed green and Severus Snape appeared. Hermione stared at him, fully expecting him to gleefully enquire as to where Ron was. He looked at her evenly and nonchalantly raised his eyebrows.

'You don't want to know why I've been stood up, then. You don't want to know how I was wrong and you were right?'

'Oh, I heard there was going to be food, Miss Granger, that's what I'm here for.'

Hermione laughed weakly. 'I'm sure. Well, it should be done by now. Come and sit down.' She nodded towards the dining table. 'I hope you like steak and chips, I'm afraid it's about as refined as Ron gets when it comes to food. But then, men will generally eat anything, in my experience.' She put the plate in front of him and then poured a glass of wine.

'I resent being lumped into the category of 'men in general',' he smirked at her, 'but I fear in this case you may be right. Are you not having anything?'

'No,' said Hermione, from the seat she was slumped in. 'I'm not hungry now, maybe I'll have something later.' Her eyes caught the torn pieces of Ron's note. 'He's gone to a party, you know. He went with Harry and some others to see the Cannons play today. Apparently they were invited into the main Hospitality Box, because, being Harry Potter has to count for something!' Hermione smiled fondly. 'They got invited to stay behind after the match, and, well, who am I stand in the way of that. He called round when I was at yours.'

'I told you, he's -'

'An idiot, I know, and I'll agree with you this time.' She twirled her glass round in her fingers for a moment. 'It's my own fault anyway, I probably read more into his coming over than he did.'

Severus made a dismissive noise deep in his throat and took a lengthy sip of his wine.

'I don't think I'm even that bothered about it really,' pressed on Hermione, rather pensively. 'I think I'm just feeling a bit obsolete, now that nearly all of my friends are married with kids.'

'Just because Potter has seen fit to doom us all by procreating doesn't mean you have to.'

Hermione snorted. 'Harry hasn't _doomed_ us all.'

'The child's called James, isn't it?'

'So?'

'I'm just saying…'

Hermione smiled; seeing that he was nearly finished, she got up and collected the wine from the kitchen, before going into the living room. 'You should come over more often for dinner,' she called, 'you could do with fattening up a bit. What do you eat usually? Shall I lump you in with men in general again and suggest that you can't cook?'

Snape came in and sat down in an armchair, while Hermione stretched herself out on the settee. 'I can cook,' he began haughtily, 'and I'll thank you not to refer to me like a prize Christmas turkey.'

She'd missed his dry humour the past few weeks, she realised, and she felt disappointed in herself for leaving it so long. 'I'm sorry I haven't paid you much attention lately, Severus…' she trailed off at the sudden scowl marring his features.

'You make me sound like some little pet dog that -'

'I didn't mean it like that,' Hermione cut in quickly. 'I just meant that I haven't had the opportunity lately; Jigger's had me doing the accounts all the time, and I don't want you to think that, well…you know.'

'You don't have to come just because Jigger sends you, Hermione. I'm not going to slam the door in your face.'

'Oh, good, I will bear that in mind.' She had been unsure about turning up unannounced, but if he didn't mind…

'How are your parents?'

Hermione looked over at him with wide eyes. 'They're on holiday, but guess where they've gone? Australia! Can you believe it? They decided to go and see the country for themselves, to put a proper image to all the broken flashbacks my father gets of the place. They love it there; I'm expecting a phone call any time soon to inform me they're upping sticks and emigrating there.'

'Would you go with them?'

Hermione blinked. 'Oh, no, I don't think so. It's all right for them, they have each other, but I wouldn't have the energy to start my life all over again.'

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes and Hermione stared up at the ceiling from where she was laid out on the cushions. Eventually she propped herself up slightly against the arm of the settee and sipped from her wineglass. 'I saw your article, by the way. Slug had the journal on his desk; he seemed very impressed with it. So was I for that matter, except that my opinion is hardly an expert one.'

'Perhaps,' he shrugged. 'Probably has more substance than some of the brain-dead idiots in the field.'

A thinly veiled compliment, but a compliment nonetheless, thought Hermione. 'Would you ever consider going back to Hogwarts?'

'You haven't been talking to Minerva, have you? She's always trying to get me to return.'

'No, I just wondered.'

'Well, actually, it may surprise you to hear that I didn't entirely hate teaching, though I wouldn't have chosen it for a career, under normal circumstances. However, I've been in that castle for more years than I've been out of it. It's definitely time to redress the balance. As for the distant future, never say never, but I'm not sure it would be a good idea.'

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. She could only hazard a guess as to what kind of memories Hogwarts held for him. As it was, she was suddenly struck by the significance of what she was currently doing. She was sat, in her house, with Severus Snape, her old professor, drinking and talking about _real_ things. Never would she have imagined such an occurrence. It felt oddly bizarre to her, and she wondered why it had never struck her so before. After many weeks of acquaintance, she supposed it was only natural that it seemed perfectly acceptable and normal. Things had a funny way of turning out, indeed, and if he was half as grateful for it as she was, then she'd be happy.

She was reminded of something that had lingered in the back of her mind for a long time, and briefly she contemplated bringing it up with the man opposite her. No harm in it, she reasoned.

'Can I ask you something, Severus?'

'You _may_ ask me something, if you wish.'

'You're such a pedant,' muttered Hermione, shaking her head. 'Did, ah, were _you_ responsible for getting me my job at the Apothecary?' She ventured to glance over at him, noticing he was rather still and had obviously not been expecting such a question.

'No,' he began, 'no, why -'

'You did, didn't you?' Inside she was smiling; she knew it must have been him.

'You have no evidence to support such a claim.'

'Oh, I don't need evidence,' replied Hermione airily, 'a woman's intuition is all one needs.'

Snape sneered. 'Intuition? I'd like to see that one stand up in the Wizengamot.'

'Jigger told me,' she challenged, with a casual sip of her wine.

Snape paused. 'You're bluffing. Dissembling is not your forte.'

'Fine,' Hermione relented, placing her empty glass on the coffee table. 'Don't admit to it then, but your denial is superfluous because I'm not going to change my hypothesis.' She stood up and went to collect his empty glass. He looked so determined to be detached and incapable of doing any good deed that it forestalled the sudden impulse she had to lean over and kiss his cheek in thanks. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass him.

Pouring more wine into his glass, she handed it back to him and he looked up, nodding his thanks. Hermione smiled slowly and gamely reached out to pat his shoulder.

'At least I have someone I can rely on, hmm?'

She turned and immediately moved to throw herself back onto the settee, completely missing whatever reaction he might have made.

* * *

'You know, this is getting to be an annoying habit of yours, Minerva.'

'I'm quite sure I don't know what you mean, Severus.'

Severus shut the door behind her, grimacing at the icy blast that had followed her in. ' _You,_ turning up here all the time like a bad penny. I don't see you for months on end and now I can't get rid of you.'

'Well, it's nearly Christmas, and I've always visited you at this time in the past.'

They talked for a time about Hogwarts, amongst other things, until Minerva, to Severus's mind, finally revealed her ulterior motive for her visit.

'I had an interesting chat with Miss Granger, the other day, Severus; she brought our delivery from the Apothecary, with Mr. Jigger.'

Severus tried not to groan too loudly. 'I can't imagine why I would give a fig about what you talked about.'

'I happened to enquire as to her and Mr Weasley; I had some idea that they might try again, you know, but then she explained that it would not happen. I was surprised to hear her go on to mention how _you_ saved her evening instead.'

He would have to have a serious talk with Miss Granger, he decided. Did she have to go gossiping about him to all and sundry? He sighed; that's what women did he supposed –they _talked_.

'Such a shame about them both; it could have all turned out so perfectly– '

'He's a flaming idiot, Minerva, and no good for the likes of her!' Realising he was glaring at her and revealing far too much, Severus looked to the fire instead.

'It's interesting to hear you talk like this, Severus. Have you formed an attachment to her yourself?' Minerva's tone was airy, but as she comprehended her own words her expression became rather sober by comparison.

'Don't be ridiculous; you've no idea what you are talking about.'

'You don't fool me, Severus. You have, haven't you?'

'You know I have a lot of time for you, Minerva, but frankly you are now trying my patience.'

Suddenly he was on the receiving end of a steely glare.

'I've known you for too long to be fooled by your bluster, Severus. I can tell from the way you behave and the way you talk about her. Besides, how often do you befriend former students? How often do you befriend _anyone_? It may not be clear to everyone, but it is clear to me.'

Severus gritted his teeth together, rather painfully. How he longed to tell her to get the hell out and leave him alone. It was no use, he knew she wouldn't back down, and he wasn't sure he had the enthusiasm to argue.

'So what if have?' he began, uncomfortably aware that it was the first time he'd admitted as much out loud. 'Are you here to tell me to stay away? To stand aside so she can be with her precious Weasley? As if I were in the way in the first place!'

'Well, how do you know she doesn't feel the same?'

'Oh for Merlin's sake, Minerva. Can you hear yourself? The idea is preposterous!'

'How is it? She said it wasn't going to work with Mr Weasley.'

Snape snorted. 'So, that means she must want me instead? She is plainly still enamoured of the boy; it was obvious from her disappointment, which, might I add, you did not see.'

Minerva sighed. 'You shall just have to tell her then.'

His head snapped round to hers in disbelief. 'I don't have to do anything, Minerva. I will certainly not tell her anything at all. Do you think I'm a glutton for punishment?'

'So, you're just going to sit there, are you? Not do anything and waste the one good opportunity you've had in your life?'

Severus flew out of his chair and stalked to the mantelpiece, trying hard to keep his emotions under control. 'I am not going to fall into the same trap twice, Minerva,' he hissed. 'There are ways and means of forgetting this silly attachment!'

Minerva gasped. 'So you would solve this all with a potion, would you? Remove all hint of your feelings? You wouldn't dare!'

'Watch me.'

'No, no I certainly will not. You know, for once I wish you would have some self-belief! For Merlin's sake, you have _nothing_ to lose except your stupid pride, and I can tell you now, pride will not keep you happy for the rest of the long years stretched ahead of you.'

Severus remained silent and unmoving until eventually he heard Minerva get up to leave.

'Just think about it again, Severus.'

Severus slammed his fist down on the mantel when she left. Interfering old biddy! He raised a hand to cover his brow. What a mess he'd got into; he should have foreseen such a development a mile off. Everyone knew he had form when it came to being foolishly taken with anyone who showed the slightest bit of interest in him. He was pathetic. Minerva was right about one thing, though; he couldn't sit and let the grass grow from under him. He'd end up consumed by bitterness and resentment for another twenty years, and honestly, he was tired of it. He wasn't sure he'd have the courage to tell her of his _feelings,_ oh how that word made him cringe. Yet, he wasn't sure he'd have the courage to carry out his threat to Minerva, either.

* * *

Hermione sat down on the sofa in the living room of Grimmauld Place and gazed contemplatively around the crowded room, crowded mostly by an assortment of Weasleys'. It was Christmas Eve and Harry and Ginny had invited everyone over for a few drinks to celebrate, but Hermione was feeling rather uninspired. She couldn't really put her finger on why. She'd been feeling more her old self in the past month or two; the weight of her father's illness lightened on her shoulders, and indeed, so was the accompanying guilt that refused to leave her entirely. Her eyes alighted on Neville and pregnant Hannah, they'd be celebrating their one-year wedding anniversary soon and Hermione couldn't believe how fast the year had disappeared.

'Hermione, could you keep an eye on the food in the kitchen for me? Make sure my brothers don't decimate it while I run up and check on James.'

'Of course, Gin.' Hermione moved into the kitchen and shut the door behind her, grateful for a bit of quiet. Noticing Ginny had begun loading up a platter of mince pies, Hermione carried on the task and hummed quietly under her breath. When the door opened, she turned quickly, prepared to deflect whatever attempt was being made on the food.

'Get lost, Ron; the food will be put out when it's ready.'

'You're no fun, Hermione.'

He shut the door behind him and Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance, but his words struck a chord and she paused mid-roll. Why _was_ she so irritable tonight? For Merlin's sake, it was Christmas Eve and she'd barely cracked a smile all night. Hermione's hand hovered over the pies. Was it because her parents were spending Christmas in France? But then, she was staying with her very best friends, and they were more than happy to have her there. They would all go to the Burrow tomorrow, for dinner, as they had done so many times in the past. But Hermione could not summon any enthusiasm, and she felt ashamed of herself for it. What kind of ungrateful person was she? The door opened once more and Hermione spun round. She managed a smile when she saw it was Ginny.

'Hermione! Don't ever have kids!' There was a large, contradictory smile on Ginny's face. 'I've been up those stairs umpteen times today. "Mum, has Father Christmas been yet?" "Mum, I can't sleep!" Harry's no use either; he's like a big kid half of the time.'

'He's just making up for his own childhood.'

Ginny nodded and began levitating platters onto the large kitchen table. 'Exactly. He can't wait for tomorrow. James is at that age now where he can appreciate toys more, and Harry has brought home all kinds inappropriate things. A toy broomstick, Hermione, a _broomstick_! Of all the irresponsible things to get a boy of James' age!' Ginny shook her head fondly.

Hermione briefly quirked her lips and moved the pies onto the table.

'Sorry, Hermione, I must drive you batty at times; all I ever seem to talk about lately is kids and stuff.'

'Oh, Gin, don't be silly. Take no notice of me; I'm being a right stick-in-the-mud. Seems like it's all I ever am, lately.'

'Now who is being silly?' Ginny paused and looked at Hermione gently. 'You've had a rough year with your father, the end of your relationship with Ron…'

Hermione looked at her hands. 'I suppose. I thought I'd put all that behind me, though. My father, he's managing really well, and so is my mother. As for Ron, well, that debacle a few weeks ago confirmed all I needed to know.'

'Maybe…' began Ginny. 'Maybe you're just concerned about moving on with your own life, you know, putting yourself first for a change.'

Hermione smiled. 'You're probably right.'

They pottered about the kitchen in companionable silence, until Ginny spoke once more.

'How's Professor Snape lately?'

'Oh, he's all right. He shouted at me the other day; I took round some information on Muggle herbal remedies, you know, for his throat. It was quite funny, actually.' Hermione chuckled; he'd set fire to the pages while she was still holding them.

'Never thought I'd see the day when Professor Snape shouting was something to laugh at,' commented Ginny thoughtfully. 'Mind you, I never thought I'd see the day when you regularly go and visit him at his _home_.'

'It's not that weird, is it?'

'Oh no, it's just, I only remember him as Professor Snape, I suppose. Don't get me wrong; I think it's great, and you obviously enjoy his company.'

Hermione suddenly felt self-conscious. 'Well, yes, I suppose I do….'

'No supposing about it,' replied Ginny confidently. 'What's he doing for Christmas?'

'Um, nothing really; he's not that bothered about it.'

'Oh. Oh that is a shame. You know, you should have invited him to…' Ginny trailed off with a sheepish grin and Hermione snorted. Snape spend Christmas at the Burrow? They both laughed aloud. 'Forget I said anything. Come on; let's tell everyone grub is up.'

Soon the kitchen was descended upon en-masse and Hermione stood leaning against a cupboard, picking at a Pumpkin Pasty. How was it that she could be surrounded by so many of her friends, and yet feel so out of place? Hermione nibbled at the pasty. Would it hurt for her to enjoy herself? So many people were alone at Christmas….

Her thoughts turned towards Severus; he would be alone, but maybe he preferred it that way… Or maybe it was because there was no other alternative. She'd arranged with herself to go and see him on Boxing Day, but it wasn't the same. Christmas was practically over then. He was her friend too, and for some reason she wanted him to know she was thinking about him.

Her friends could obviously manage without her here. She could easily slip out for an hour or two. Mind made up, Hermione picked up a plate and began filling it with a selection of food. Slipping out of the kitchen and into the hallway, Hermione scribbled a note on some parchment and left it prominently displayed on the hall table. Opening the door, she Apparated.

Appearing in the darkened doorway, Hermione balanced the plate in one hand and knocked firmly on the door. After a time it swung open sharply, revealing a silhouetted figure.

'What the devil are you doing here?'

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 'Happy Christmas to you too! I thought I'd come and see you; look, I brought food.' She held up the plate.

Snape glanced from the plate to her face. 'Why do I always feel like a charity case when you come to visit?' He moved to let her in. 'It's like _Help the Aged_ or something.'

Hermione smiled. 'Don't be silly; you're not old. I just knew you wouldn't have anything nice to munch on, and now we have Cauldron Cakes, which I know are your favourite, mince pies, biscuits, _and_ pasties.' She set the plate down on the coffee table and sat down, enjoying the warm glow of the fire.

'Robbed a bakery on the way here, did you?'

Hermione snorted. 'No, Harry and Ginny are having a party…' She trailed off wondering if he might prefer she'd robbed a bakery than the truth that she'd nicked it from Harry. He didn't comment on it, however.

'What are you doing here, then?'

'Oh, well, there doesn't have to be a reason, does there? I just wanted to.' She felt her cheeks colour slightly and she stuffed a mince pie into her mouth, sending flakes of pastry all down her robes. Her cheeks were now flaming red. She banished the crumbs with her wand.

'I suppose not,' he concurred slowly. 'Do you want something to drink? I only have the usual.'

'That'll be fine, thank you.'

He placed a glass of wine down in front of her and then picked up a Cauldron Cake with a smirk. 'You're wrong, you know; we don't need Potter's leftovers.' So saying he threw the offending object high into the air, and aiming his wand, obliterated it into nothingness.

Hermione stared at him agog. 'What on earth did you do that for? You can't be–'

'Hang on!' he interjected loudly. 'No, I am _not_ that petty, indeed, I am just saying you were wrong to assume I don't have anything to offer, myself.'

'Oh?' questioned Hermione with a raised eyebrow. 'Had your apron on all afternoon, have you?'

She received a glare for her impertinence. 'Do you remember the Cauldron Cakes the elves made at Hogwarts?'

'Of course.'

Snape flicked his wand in the direction of the kitchen. 'Well, Minerva knows how I would gladly walk back to Hogwarts for one of those, and brings me _this_ , every Christmas.'

Hermione's attention was drawn to the slowly levitating object travelling from the direction of the kitchen. She stood up. 'Oh Merlin! Look at the size of it! The elves made it?'

Snape nodded proudly. 'Lovely, is it not?'

'We… we can't eat it. It would spoil it.'

'And leaving it uneaten to go mouldy, wouldn't?'

'Fine, but I'm not cutting it. All that hard work! I mean, just look at the detail on the chocolate for the cauldron! It even has the Hogwarts crest on it!'

'Truly a work of art.'

Hermione stared thoughtfully at the cake, now lowered onto the table. 'Are we sad to be this impressed by a _cake_?'

Severus shrugged. 'Probably.'

He used his wand to summon two plates and then to cut the cake into pieces. Hermione caught herself sighing in disappointment. Settling back onto the settee, she broke off a piece of chocolate and chewed it slowly.

'Whatever you do, don't leave me alone with that thing.' She indicated the cake left on the table. 'I might end up finishing it off.'

'I would take serious offence at such an incident, and therefore I will heed your advice.'

There was quiet for a moment while they ate and when Snape had sent the plates away, he spoke again.

'So, what's the real reason you are here? Weasley's idiotic antics got too much for you, did they?'

Hermione sent him a disapproving look. 'No. As I said, I wanted to see you– '

'So you upped and left in the middle of a party?'

' _You_ are not going to admonish me for being rude, are you?' At his raised eyebrow, she continued. 'I was just a bit, uh, bored, I suppose. Ginny seems to think it's because I don't know what to do with myself anymore. There may be some truth in it, but I don't know; I enjoy working at the Apothecary, despite the smell.' Hermione smiled.

'You don't want to stay there forever though, do you? I would say you are eminently suited to a life of ministerial bureaucracy. I'm sure you could cause enough trouble in the exalted corridors of power.'

'Thanks, I think,' she laughed. Thinking about it, Hermione was beginning to wonder if her apathy stemmed more from an odd sense of loneliness she'd been feeling lately. How was it she'd felt at Grimmauld Place tonight? Out of place. Yet, her time spent here was starting to provide a sharp contrast; she felt increasingly at ease and settled in the poky living room. It was a sobering thought, and she swallowed a large sip of wine.

'Where are your Christmas decorations, then? You told me you would put some up, if only to shut me up.' Hermione looked at him accusingly. He had indeed promised such a thing after she'd threatened to bring a tree in.

Severus looked at her with an almost-smile. 'I did. I put some tinsel around my cauldron.'

Hermione snorted. 'Well, I think I'll have to give you a _Troll_ for effort.'

He shrugged. 'I thought it was exquisitely done.'

Hermione smirked, but it faded to a frown when she checked her watch. 'I should probably go now; it _was_ rather rude of me to leave like that.' She placed her empty glass on the table and reluctantly got to her feet.

'Must you go?'

Her eyes immediately flew to the man in the chair, and Hermione was sure her heart had skipped a beat at his grave enquiry. To say she was surprised would be an understatement, and indeed, from the look upon his face, he was also startled by his words. He held her gaze and Hermione was struck by how impossibly black his eyes were. Suddenly, he blinked and looked away.

'Forget I said – '

'No,' interjected Hermione, unwilling to hear the end of that sentence. 'No, I don't have to go, indeed, I…' She paused and cleared her throat. Indeed, what? That she was immeasurably thankful that he'd said such a thing? '… Well it's, it's no trouble at all,' she managed in the end, sitting back down and plucking at her sleeve self-consciously.

Snape said nothing and Hermione couldn't bring herself to look at him. An awkward tension had descended and she mentally grasped at anything to break it. She hadn't felt this uncomfortable in his presence for a very long time. Still, it was a quietly pleasant flutter that lingered in her stomach at the realisation that he actually appreciated her company. Chancing a look out of the corner of her eye, she saw he was staring into the fire with deep consideration. Slipping off her shoes, Hermione folded her legs underneath her and leant back against the corner of the settee. She would have to break the ice.

'Do you remember that night we got drunk?'

It was a moment or two before he deigned to reply, stiffly at first. 'We? I singularly recall it was _you_ who got drunk.'

'If you say so; we should do it again sometime,' remarked Hermione contemplatively.

'Again?' scoffed Snape. 'You know, I find your attitude to alcohol consumption questionable. Are you trying to turn me into what the Muggles term a "binge-drinker"?'

'How on earth do you know about binge-drinking?' Hermione fixed him with an appraising look.

Snape waved his hand impatiently. 'I keep abreast of Muggle news, by way of newspapers; I'd be a fool not too.'

Hermione pondered this interesting new piece of information. ' _The Sun?'_

' _The Sun?'_ came the spluttered reply. 'I'll thank you, Miss Granger, to credit me with a smidge more intelligence!'

'Ron's eyes nearly fell out of his head when he saw a copy of it once. "Why can't the _Daily Prophet_ be like that?" he whined at me.'

'What a surprise he would be taken with such… base entertainment.'

Hermione smiled and bit her lip at his reserve, itching to tease him further, but she managed to refrain. 'Anyway, to go back to what I originally said, I didn't mean the getting drunk part. I meant going somewhere. We never do that.'

' _Together_?'

'Yes,' laughed Hermione, rather weakly when she saw his expression cloud over. 'What?'

What had she said wrong? Hermione looked at her hands; well she'd managed to bring the tension back quite comprehensively. Raising her head, she watched him rub a hand roughly over his chin.

'I don't think…' he paused momentarily, and Hermione found she was holding her breath. 'I am not convinced that your, ah, association with me becoming widely known is in your best interest.'

Hermione simply stared at him blankly. 'That's just ridiculous!'

Severus turned to her. 'Is it? You don't think people would notice? It's a small world, Hermione, and the Wizarding World is even smaller.'

'So what if people notice?'

'Perhaps you have a selective memory, but most people don't forget, Hermione. Officially I may have the approval of the Ministry, and while it means my liberty, it means precious little else! People will always wonder about me, second-guess my motives, my actions, my abilities. Its suits the Ministry's purpose that I lie low and stay out of the way.' His voice had risen slightly and he finished by giving her a fierce look.

'It doesn't matter to me.'

'Well, it should. Good luck getting a job at the Ministry when they know you've been fraternising with me!'

'That _is_ ridiculous!' Hermione blustered.

'I assure you it is not,' he argued firmly. 'Can't you imagine what the likes Rita Skeeter and those other cretins at the _Daily Prophet_ would write about you? They'd relish such an opportunity, I assure you. People are fickle, Hermione, opinion changes like the wind, and they won't hesitate to turn on you. You are better off out of it.'

Hermione gaped at him and he purposely looked away. Merlin, how she wished she hadn't opened her mouth in the first place! 'I told you, I don't care,' she ground out. 'Do you think I'm so shallow as to live my life with only thought to my career, and to what others think of me?'

'Going to spend the rest of your life shoveling Flobberworms in the Apothecary, are you?'

'Of course not!' exclaimed Hermione, getting to her feet in frustration. 'Stop talking to me like I'm a silly child! You can't tell me what to do or to make decisions for me! If I choose not to care about my reputation, then so be it. Let them write what they bloody well want to write. You said it yourself, "people are fickle"; as soon as some other piece of gossip comes along it'll be forgotten!'

Hermione breathed heavily and kept her ground as he endeavoured to stare her down, but evidently her vehemence had resonated with him somewhat as he was first to glance away. And as he sat there, with the glow of the fire casting a myriad of highlights and shadows over his features, Hermione found she couldn't look away. It unnerved her, and she wondered at her the intensity of her defence. Indeed, her heart was pounding in her chest, and the thought occurred to her that they might be arguing about more than they realised. For her own part, at least, she was beginning to think it might be so.

Was the reason she was so upset by his views because they precluded any possibility that he might consent to a relationship beyond friendship? Deep down, was that what she'd been hoping for? Perching slowly back onto the settee and staring rather dazedly round the room, it dawned on Hermione that yes, _this,_ sitting here with him, talking with him… She always felt a sense of calm and quiet pleasure in his company. It was what she wanted; she wanted _him_ , and only now she was being forced to recognise it, or even understand it. She couldn't bear the thought that he might send her away, for good. Such reflection was cut short, however, by Snape, who managed to re-ignite Hermione's anger in the space of a sentence.

'I'm not going to change my mind; I should have put a stop to this– '

Hermione slapped her hand down on the arm of the settee. 'For Merlin's sake, Severus, why are you being so difficult about this? I mean we're just…' She raised her hands helplessly, as if trying to find the words, 'we're just two people, living our lives. What can anyone say about that? Don't tell me you regret our becoming friends? _I'm_ not going to apologise for it. I'm not going to apologise to anyone for the fact that I like spending time with you, or that I care about you, or that– ' Hermione broke off, afraid that she was revealing too much.

At the silence that ensued, she forced herself to look at him and sighed when he appeared to still be troubled. She stood up again. 'Severus, it's been _five_ years since the end of the war. People move on, they… You're too hard on yourself.'

As he opened his mouth, no doubt to refute her once more, Hermione stepped forward and grabbed his hand, effectively forestalling him. Ignoring the surprise in his eyes, Hermione pressed on. 'You deserve to be happy, Severus.' She moved to balance on the arm of his chair and stared at their hands, flushing slightly at the way she'd grabbed his fingers. 'And I don't, I mean, I don't aim to be so presumptuous as to imply that your happiness is in any way dependent on me, I just…' Hermione let out a defeated breath; how had she let this happen? Not half an hour ago things had been _normal_ between them; now she was blighting their friendship with her own _feelings_ and desires. He made to remove his fingers and Hermione's hand became lax with disappointment. She was about to get up, undeniably mortified, when Severus surprised her by clasping his hand round hers properly.

'You make my heart light whenever I see you, Hermione,' he murmured softly, almost reluctantly, and his eyes fell to anywhere but hers. 'And that in turn makes my conscience heavy.'

Hermione was speechless. Only he, she realised, could say something so lovely and then counterbalance it with something so negative. 'Why?' she enquired anxiously, giving his hand a squeeze. 'Why should you feel guilty for it?'

'Because _this,_ ' he waved his hand in the air between them, 'this is absurd. If I understand your intentions correctly, then while they may complement my own, I just… It would never work– '

Hermione tugged on his hand. 'Why, because you are older? Sarcastic? Reserved? Or, is it deeper than that? You think your past should deter me? Or we are so fundamentally different that you think there's no point in even trying?'

'Partly, yes but– '

' _Or_ ,' pushed Hermione, 'is it because you think one slice is all you'll ever be able to share of your precious Cauldron Cake? Because, you know, I can manage without it…'

'What the– ' Severus looked at her incredulously and then covered his eyes with his hand snorting. 'Don't laugh at me; I'm deadly serious about this.'

'Exactly,' commented Hermione soberly. 'Which is why I'm trying to make light of it. Please, we have to try; unless, you really don't want to….'

The look he gave her said it all and Hermione smiled in satisfaction. 'Good,' she noted brightly and stroked the back of his hand. She would show him; she would make sure she dispelled all of his doubts. In the distance she could hear the chiming of bells and she glanced at her watch, surprised. It was midnight already. Hermione shifted slightly on her perch and looked down at the dark man beside her, feeling a rush of affection for him. 'Severus?' she ventured, coming to the decision that she would have to be the one to take action.

'Hmm?'

Hermione extricated her hand from his and tentatively reached out to touch his jaw.

'What are you doing?' he asked quietly.

'Something one of us should have done ages ago.' Hermione tilted his chin, and leaning down, she pressed a kiss to his mouth. When she pulled back, she felt inordinately pleased with the way her lips tingled pleasantly.

Severus stared uncomprehendingly at her, until Hermione stood up and he was roused into action. 'Where are you going?' he demanded briskly.

'Well, it's uncomfortable sitting there, and besides, it's unfair that I should do all the work while you sit pretty in your chair.'

She'd barely got the words out before he was on his feet in front of her. His close proximity was such that Hermione felt her mouth go dry. Her previous courage seemed to desert her and while she could feel his eyes on her, she kept hers fixed on his chest. Suddenly she wished she had more experience to draw on than that which she'd had with Ron. And that had ended over a year ago; Merlin she was out of the loop.

The movement of his arm distracted her, and Hermione looked to see his hand raised, as if to touch her hair. She automatically reached up to grab it.

'I wouldn't do that if I were you,' she warned.

'Why not?' asked Severus in confusion.

'If you want your hand back, I suggest you don't put it anywhere near my nest of knotty hair.'

Severus smirked and plucked at a lock of it. 'It's not _quite_ a nest. Although, you leave enough hairs about the place that I could probably fashion one.'

Hermione almost choked on her laughter when she felt him run his finger down the length of her jaw.

'I believe you may be prevaricating, Hermione. Don't tell me my misgivings have had a belated impact?'

'No, of course not; only a mind as convoluted as yours can see sense in such logic. I'm just….' Hermione's breath hitched. It was silly she realised, to feel nervous. Just the way he was looking at her should have been enough to send her confidence soaring. When had she ever seen such an open expression on his face? Running her hand up his arm to rest on his shoulder, Hermione stepped closer and smiled. 'I'm just waiting for– '

Whatever she was about to say was lost as Severus leant forward and kissed her soundly. Hermione let out a startled squeak and then heard herself sighing happily, managing to retain enough wit to respond to his caress and open her mouth to him. Her hand came up to brush away the hair from his face, stroking his cheek, and there came a low noise in his throat that sent a shiver down her spine. When they reluctantly broke apart Hermione took a few shuddering breaths, inwardly marvelling at the effect one kiss had had on her.

'You're lovely, you know.'

Hermione distracted from her daze, looked at him fondly, feeling inexplicably touched at such quiet sincerity.

'Completely and utterly,' he added, punctuating each word with a kiss along her cheek till he was gently tugging on her hair, indicating for her tilt her head back and allow him access to her neck.

Hermione capitulated automatically and let her eyes flutter closed in pleasure. She gripped onto him tightly, sure that the sensation of his lips against her neck would send her knees buckling at any moment. She found herself involuntarily whispering his name between shallow breaths. Severus pulled her tighter to him in response.

'Severus,' she breathed, 'I should… Harry and Ginny, they'll be wondering… I should go and…' A voice in her head screamed at her to shut up.

Hermione felt a deep chuckle at her throat. 'Go on, then,' he rumbled, and knowingly began moving his attentions back up to her cheek and then to her mouth once more.

Hermione realised she wasn't going anywhere, not if the noises she was making were anything to go by. The feel of his hands on her set her ardour alight and she pushed herself against him, beginning to tremble when she discovered he was as affected as she was.

Roughly, he wrenched his mouth from hers. 'If you are to go, you had better leave now.'

She stared at him, catching her breath. She understood the warning, but she didn't want to stop. The whole night had been impulsive and spontaneous, and all Hermione knew was that she hadn't felt this alive in a long time.

'I'll just send a message,' she replied breathily.

He nodded his approval and Hermione squeaked loudly as she was hoisted off her feet. 'You can't just… sling me over your shoulder!' she laughed, grateful for the distraction from the butterflies in her stomach.

Severus extinguished the fire in the grate and began making for the stairs. 'Just did,' he commented assertively.

Hermione gave a despairing shake of her head and smiled. 'Put me down, I can walk, you know.'

'And here was me thinking I'd rendered you insensible.' He set her down and smirked. 'I'll obviously have to try harder; I wouldn't want a _Troll_ for effort this time, would I?'

Hermione shook her head and reached up to kiss him once more. 'No, you most certainly would not.'

* * *

Later, when Hermione's Patronus gambolled into Grimmauld Place, to advise she would return and join them in the morning, any merriment Harry and Ron felt was swiftly supplanted by sheer horror.

Indeed, a casual observer might have been forgiven for thinking they were also recent Dragon Pox victims.

FIN

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading : )


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